


Pieces of You

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Gay Romance, Grieving, Love, Lust, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: Therapist Jonas Goldman has a reluctant client in Julian Archer, whose mother is forcing him to come to therapy. Can he make a breakthrough with his stubborn client? And what happens when he starts to feel more than he should for the obviously traumatized young man?





	

“Honestly, Mrs. Archer, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jonas Goldman said doubtfully.

The woman currently pacing his office snorted elegantly. “Maybe it isn’t,” she conceded dryly, “But it’s the only thing I can think of. My son has…well, I honestly don’t know what to tell you about these sudden changes in his behavior. Last year he was a straight A student, on the Honor Roll, halfway to his Masters Degree. Clean as a whistle, not a party boy at all. Even I thought he was a little boring,” she went on with a frustrated wave of her manicured hand. “But now I’d pay anything for the return of that other boy. His grades have slipped into Cs and Ds, half the time he doesn’t go to class anymore, and when he DOES he’s usually hung over or coming down from whatever drug du jour that he got high on the night before.

“The private detective I hired to follow him says that he goes to the clubs every night, and that he usually leaves with some indiscriminate male whose name he doesn’t even know. I’m worried that he’s having unprotected sex with them, that he’ll end up with a venereal disease or something even worse. Now mind you,” she went on, running a hand through her carefully coiffed hair, “If I thought he was just enjoying himself and this was his normal behavior, I’d say he was just being like any other spoiled rich boy who went away to college and cut loose. But this…” real fear crossed her face, although that wasn’t easy since it was stiff from Botox treatments. “I’m afraid that he’s trying to kill himself, just in a slow and roundabout way. And I want to know why he’s doing it. Damn it, I want my son back!” her voice rang out through his office, and even she looked faintly surprised by her own vehemence.

“But if he won’t acknowledge that he has a problem, and he won’t come here on his own, there’s very little that I can do for him,” Jonas replied as gently as he could. 

She whirled on him like a tiger. “I’ll pay your exorbitant fees, and ten per cent more,” she snarled. “And you do whatever it takes to fix my son. “

“Mrs. Archer,” he sighed. But she held up her hand.

“I can make life…very hard for you, Mr. Goldman,” she told him. “Believe me when I say this. All I’m asking is that you try. Please,” she added in restrained desperation, her jaw visibly locked over some heavy emotion.

He rubbed at his forehead with one hand. “Very well. I’m not promising anything, you understand…”

“I know that. With Julian, I don’t expect stellar results. Especially not now. He’s always been stubborn, you know. He gets that from me,” she went on proudly. 

“But Mrs. Archer, if Julian doesn’t want to see a therapist, how are you even going to get him to come in for his sessions?” Jonas asked carefully.

Her smile was brittle and hard. He felt the hairs try to rise on the back of his neck. “Oh, he’ll come in,” she replied with a steely glint in her eyes. “I’ll see to that.” 

 

 

Jonas paced his office as he waited for his newest client, Julian Archer, to arrive. He wasn’t happy at all about this whole arrangement. He helped people who wanted to be helped, not those who were forced to come in to see him by their parents. He doubted that there was anything that he could do for this young man, not if Julian wouldn’t admit that he even had a problem. While the sudden, drastic changes in his behavior did signal something very wrong in his universe, a person had to be willing to work with the therapist to heal themselves. If Julian couldn’t or wouldn’t do that, there was nothing that he could do. These sessions would be futile.

He stopped in his pacing when he came to his desk. Reaching out, he picked up the photograph of himself and Chris at the beach in Maui. That had been their second anniversary; a tropical vacation where they could rest and relax together. His arms were around his lover’s shoulders, hugging Chris to him. They were both smiling widely at the camera. The happiness in their faces was like a punch to the gut for him; after a moment, he laid the picture face down on his desktop and turned away. 

Chris was gone. He kept telling himself that, and he knew that eventually it would sink in totally. Maybe in five or ten years…it had only been a year since a drunk driver had claimed the life of the person he’d loved more than his own, and the pain was still too fresh. Eventually Chris would fade into memory, a much loved ghost that would haunt the halls of his mind until the day he died. But now…the only way that he coped was by going to work. Helping others helped him. Besides, Chris had always said that this was his calling. His lover had always been extremely proud of him, and the work he did. Being here always made him feel closer to Chris in some odd way, as though the other man’s spirit was hovering in his office watching over him benevolently. 

His lips quirked a little, wryly, at this sentimental thought. But just then, there was a knock at his office door. “Come in,” he called, and after a moment it swung open, and a young man came striding into his office with his head high and a militant light in his eyes.

Julian Archer. Had to be. And a very unhappy young man at the moment, as Jonas could clearly see. His lips were curled in a visible sneer, and his brows were lowered over his eyes. He glared at Jonas. “You must be the shrink my mother is forcing me to see,” he snarled. 

“I’m Jonas Goldman,” the therapist replied calmly. “Although ‘shrink;’ is not an accurate term in my case. I’m not a psychologist.”

The younger man snorted. “So what good are you, then?” he asked snippily.

Jonas smiled serenely. “We’ll see,” he replied. “Would you please take a seat?” he pointed at one of the chairs across from his.

Julian stared at the chair, then at him. Jonas could clearly see him calculating whether he was going to do it or not. But finally he shrugged and walked over, plopping down in the chair in a graceless heap before turning that scalpel-like stare back on the therapist. Jonas picked up a notepad and a pencil and took his own seat, quietly sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. He moved slowly, taking his own sweet time, to see how Julian would react. The younger man glowered at him, and drummed long fingers on the arm of his chair, but said nothing. 

Jonas settled back in his chair. “Your mother told me a good bit about you when she came in to make your first appointment,” he began.

Julian bared his teeth like an angry dog. “How could she do that? Mother doesn’t know ANYTHING about me!” he spat furiously.

Jonas cocked his head to the side a little. “Doesn’t she? Why not?” he asked.

“Because she never bothers to spend enough time with me to do so,” Julian replied disdainfully. “She’s always got better things to do – shopping, banging her latest boy toy, you name it. Her child never counted high on her list of important things to attend to. But don’t worry, I’m used to it by now,” he added with a careless wave of his hand.

“That’s good,” the therapist replied. “That you’ve come to terms with your mother’s neglect. But apparently she’s concerned enough this time that…”

“She blackmailed me into coming to see you,” Julian interrupted him to say coldly. “And she’s only concerned now because my behavior lately doesn’t reflect well on HER. She’s always been able to throw out little things like ‘Julian’s a straight A student, don’t you know’, or ‘Julian’s won a prestigious award’, or what have you. She used to be able to wow her friends with those little snippets, but now she can’t. So she has no use for me anymore. Not that she ever once said to ME: “Congratulations, Julian, I’m so proud of you,” because that would never occur to her,” he went on bitterly.

Jonas considered his words in silence for a moment. “You resent your mother? Is that why these changes have occurred in your behavior?”

Julian laughed harshly. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. If I’d resented her behavior enough to change my ways so drastically, don’t you think that I would have done it years ago? In high school, when I was in my rebellious teenage years?”

“You have a point,” Jonas conceded. He looked the other man over, taking in Julian Archer’s general appearance. The younger man had soft, wavy hair that had once been the color of ripe wheat, but now was streaked with bold slashes of some rather hideous dyes. One looked to be puce, another bilious green. The resentful eyes that glared at him from under strong, well-shaped brows were a striking grey-green. There was a ring piercing his left brow, a recent addition if he was any judge. The site was reddened and looked rather swollen. It seemed to be getting infected. The studs through his ears looked newer as well. His face was handsome underneath the scowl that twisted it, and the sullenly set mouth was full and rather pink. Julian was wearing a torn t-shirt with the logo of a death metal rock band on the front, and ripped black jeans that looked dirty. His bare arms were on display, so that everyone could see the tattoos that graced both of his upper arms. One was a coiled serpent, the other a dragon with its wings spread. A far cry from a quiet, studious, intellectual young man. 

Jonas tapped his pencil thoughtfully on his pad. Julian lounged back in his chair and scratched contemptuously at one cheek with one of his black painted fingernails. “Just out of curiosity, how did your mother manage to get you to come in and see me?” Jonas asked after a moment.

Julian’s sneer deepened. “The bitch threatened to cut me off without a dime if I didn’t come. With my grades, I’d never be able to get loans to finish paying for my degree. Besides, I have other…expenses, none of which Mother will pay for if I don’t come in here to see you at least three times a week. I’d end up on the street in this economy if I had to get a minimum wage job to pay my own way.”

“I see,” the therapist replied softly. “And how do you feel about that?”

A shrug of the t-shirt clad shoulders. “How do you expect me to feel? Angry. Very, very angry. Totally pissed off. That’s my major emotion at the moment.”

Jonas felt rather weary. What could he do for this angry young man? Julian didn’t want help. He’d been forced to come in. That was not a good basis for any kind of relationship between them, even a working one. Clearly the college student resented him and wouldn’t listen to anything that he had to say. He considered his options, then began slowly: “Julian, we have a problem here. Your mother wasn’t interested in listening, when I tried to tell her that I didn’t think that there was much that I could do for you if you weren’t willing to cooperate. Also, we’ll both be stuck in these futile sessions for who knows how long to come if you don’t try to work with me at all. I’m simply asking for a little cooperation – enough so that you can improve a little, anyway. It would get her off both of our backs if that happened, since I told her outright that I wasn’t really sure that I could help you in any way. Even a little improvement on your part might be enough for her to cancel these sessions. So what do you say? Or do you really want to spend months looking at my face three times a week?”

Julian was silent, thinking over what he’d said. Then the younger man nodded. “Fine. You’ve got a point. I don’t want to be stuck here forever. What do you want me to do?”

“Just talk to me a bit. Answer some of my questions at least,” Jonas replied promptly.

Julian’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Okay. But I think I need a little quid pro quo,” he said.

Jonas blinked. “What do you mean?”

Julian’s lips lifted in a faint, cold smile. “If I tell you something personal about myself, you have to reciprocate. Tell me something personal about YOU.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Jonas remarked doubtfully.

The younger man folded his arms across his chest. “Fine. Then I guess we both sit here until Doomsday,” he said.

The therapist wanted to groan and pull at his hair. ‘Stubborn’ was an understatement, he thought wryly to himself. “Very well,” he said aloud. “But like you, I’ll pick and choose which things that I want to answer.”

“Fair enough,” Julian replied with a shrug. “What do you want to know?” 

“I’d like you to tell me something about your childhood,” Jonas began. “For example…what about your father? You haven’t mentioned him yet, I noticed.”

Julian snorted in disgust. “That’s because he’s not worth mentioning,” he sneered. “Daddy Dearest is off on his fourth honeymoon right now. He goes through trophy wives like Chiclets. He barely talks to my mother, except through a lawyer when she’s trying to get her settlement increased periodically. And when he dumped her, he dumped me, too. I haven’t talked to him since I was nine or so. He seems to think that paying her alimony and child support for me was enough of a contribution, without actually having to look at his son. My beloved mother was very bitter about that fact, of course; I heard about my father’s perfidy often enough when I was growing up. Like she was ever there enough to be able to say anything,” he went on scornfully. “I can tell you the birthdays and personal details about a dozen nannies, but not about my precious mother. And I don’t think she’d remember my birthday, either, if it hadn’t left her with stretch marks.”

Jonas winced at the bitterness in his voice. “It’s hard when our parents neglect us,” he said aloud. “As hard as if they’d abused us.”

Julian scowled at him. “What do you know about it?” he snapped.

Jonas sighed. “Well, you wanted quid pro quo. My father was a cold, distant workaholic who treated me like just another of his possessions. My mother was more interested in her clubs, and watching television, than she was in raising her son. I was an only child, too, and I grew up a latch key kid. And while the pain of that may not be as bad as a person experiences that has been hit or molested by their parents, it’s bad enough. It leaves a hollow feeling inside of you, a space that never seems to be filled. You turn to anyone at all for affection, in a desperate need to have someone actually care about you. Or am I wrong?”

Julian’s mouth was set hard. “Maybe quid pro quo wasn’t such a good idea,” he said.

Jonas smiled crookedly. “Yes, but you insisted. So I’m afraid that I’ll have to honor our bargain. Shall we continue?”

The younger man sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I can see that I’m going to regret every moment of the time I spend here,” he said to it. 

“Yes, well, at least you won’t be able to say that you were bored,” Jonas replied dryly.

“Very true. Then let’s get on with it, Doc…”

“I’m not a psychologist, I told you,” Jonas said patiently. “I’m a licensed therapist. You can just call me Jonas.”

“Fine. Jonas. Let’s get on with it; I do actually have classes to go to. Even if I don’t bother to attend them most of the time anymore.”

The therapist figuratively girded his loins. Julian Archer was going to be very difficult, he could see that. But at the same time, his instincts were telling him that he might be able to help this man after all. And he always trusted those instincts, because they’d served him well so far. He’d simply have to go slowly and carefully, as though he were negotiating a minefield. Which was a good enough analogy for this situation, anyway.


End file.
